Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time-Chapter 196: Looking Into Herbs

Han Yu stepped into the third section on the left, his feet echoing faintly on the smooth stone floor. The air here was thick with the scent of ancient paper, dried ink, and the faintest trace of herbal dust long settled into the corners of the room.

This was the section of the library dedicated to alchemy, spiritual flora, and rare materials—subjects often neglected by the more martial-focused disciples, but now central to Han Yu’s purpose.

The shelves stood tall and resolute, crafted from Blackwood Spirit Trees—said to resist decay for a thousand years. Their surfaces gleamed with oil and age, and the books they held were bound in beast hide, silk, and occasionally even scale leather from long lost creatures. Gold and silver filigree marked the titles with delicate calligraphy.

Han Yu’s eyes drifted over spines until a thick volume caught his attention: "Rarities of Rebirth and Restoration: A Comprehensive Compendium." He lifted the heavy tome and made his way to one of the long reading desks nearby.

The desk was a simple but sturdy thing made of red sandalwood, its surface worn smooth by generations of eager readers. A lantern of floating qi-fire powered by a formation hovered above, casting a steady light.

As he opened the book, the spine groaned in protest, and a faint puff of dust rose from its pages. Han Yu’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the index.

He started with one of the more unusual names he had obtained from the Elder..

"Moonshadow Lotus" – A rare aquatic spirit herb said to bloom only during a lunar eclipse in lakes infused with yin qi. Its petals could nourish a soul’s essence and were vital for stabilizing the transition between death and life. The cost? Astronomical. Even a single intact petal could buy an entire town.

"Jade Heart Silk" – Not a plant, but the crystallized thread formed from a spiritual silkworm raised on jade blossoms. It could be used to weave blood vessels and connective tissue, conducting spiritual energy with unmatched efficiency. Han Yu’s fingers tightened around the edge of the book as he read its harvesting conditions. The silkworms had to be cultivated for a decade, and only a single thread could be harvested at a time.

"Ashes of a Fireborn Beast" – The remains of a spirit beast born in fire, often used in rituals involving body reconstruction. Said to imbue the reconstructed flesh with an affinity to fire and vitality. The issue? These beasts were aggressive, rare, and extremely territorial. The ashes were gathered posthumously—assuming the beast didn’t cremate its own remains upon death.

"Three-Cycle Soulgrass" – A strange herb that bloomed once every thirty years. Each cycle stored a greater concentration of soul-attracting energy. It was known to stabilize unstable souls and reinforce spiritual threads torn by death. Han Yu underlined the name with the tip of his spiritual ink quill.

"Spirit-Forged Bone Sand" – Finely ground remnants of ancient spiritual bones, often harvested from the ossuaries of long-dead cultivators. Mixed into elixirs or used directly, it was essential for rebuilding skeletal structures that could withstand spiritual energy. Han Yu frowned. Harvesting it legally was almost impossible unless one had access to ancient tombs or permission from the sect.

"Spirit Anchor Iron" – A dense, gray-black mineral that acted as a stabilizing core for bodily formation. Used to tether the soul during reconstruction so it wouldn’t dissipate. Highly resistant to qi interference, it was often used in the forging of spiritual prisons and restraints. Smuggling it was common—legal ownership, however, was not.

"Reverse Bloodfruit" – A sinister-looking fruit with crimson flesh and black skin. It reversed the natural deterioration of blood pathways and rejuvenated the circulatory system. In a revival ritual, it would allow new blood to flow through newly formed veins. However, it had to be refined fresh—within an hour of harvesting—or it lost its potency completely.

Han Yu’s pen scratched furiously across the parchment as he noted every detail. The materials weren’t just rare—they were almost legendary. It was becoming clearer and clearer why resurrection, especially a full-body reconstruction, was such a taboo and mysterious process.

The parchment in front of him was now filled with diagrams and hastily written notes:

Moonshadow Lotus – Soul stabilization

Jade Heart Silk – Formation of energy-conductive vessels

Ashes of a Fireborn Beast – Vitality ignition

Three-Cycle Soulgrass – Soul binding and anchoring

Spirit-Forged Bone Sand – Skeletal reinforcement

Spirit Anchor Iron – Core soul tether

Reverse Bloodfruit – Circulatory system regeneration

He sat back and exhaled slowly.

’Even if I gather all of these, I’ll still need a proper ritual site... something secluded, preferably soaked in ambient qi... and where I can store a massive amount of Soul Qi to bind it all together.’

He reached into his robe and pulled out a second scroll—the one he had taken from the internal records office, stamped with the crimson seal of the sect. It listed the missing materials from the day of his "incident."

He rubbed his temples. It was sobering to realize that his life had come at the cost of treasures that even Nascent Soul cultivators would fight over.

"Hmm... Other than a few herbs that can help restore vitality, the others don’t seem to match the charecterstics here." Han Yu muttered to himself.

Seeing this, he suddenly realized something.

"Wait... Doesn’t this mean that I don’t need an exact 1:1 copy of items?" Han Yu’s eyes lit up. "I don’t have to necessarily get the same items. Since I don’t have the same restrictions as a Nascent Soul Realm cultivator. My Undying Life Charm can make a body from pretty much anything as long as there’s a large quantity of them." He was getting excited.

This meant that he didn’t have to look for these rare and legendary items necessarily, as long as it was close to it he would be able to revive.

’Still, I need to be ready to gather these on my own... no more blind luck.’ He knew.

He stood, rolled up his parchment carefully, and returned the books to their shelves with a gentle reverence. The library felt quieter now—sacred, almost.